Status: yes, it's slow-paced. sorry//new layout??//not on hiatus, I'm just depressed and busy

Brothers/Sisters

3/trying a weak laugh; tell her we found cherry wine

It takes me a few minutes to search my closet. A couple days ago, the rod snapped and all of my clothes landed in what amounted to a foot-tall heap of wrinkles. That’s the last time I hang up my clothes. Carina sits on the floor under a and flips through a National Geographic, one of Dave’s 1933 magazines that I borrowed indefinitely. “So who is that kid?” she asks.

“Hitchhiking forest fairy. Promised to tell me the secrets of the fae realm if I gave him a hot meal.”

“That’s nice.”

I toss aside a green sweatshirt and pull out a gray boxy object.

Carina recognizes it immediately. “You bought a Gamecube! I haven’t seen one of those in ages. Not since mine broke.”

“I’ve got a couple of controllers, too, somewhere.” I give her the little gray Gamecube and go back to digging in the closet; the rack fell yesterday, so everything is buried under a mountain of clothes.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Pawn shop for ten bucks. Where else?”

“Is it for me?”

“Of course. I don’t collect these things.” I toss two controllers at Carina, but both fly past her, hit the bed, and slide miserably down the fleece blanket I made when I was twelve.

“Awesome. Oh! I got the Atari working again.”

“And?”

“Not worth it. I’d forgotten how boring Pong was.”

I turn around and sit across from her. Hard plastic snaps as she sifts through my CDs; I brought them inside earlier this week to download all the music onto my laptop.

Snap. “Dude, you have a serious techno problem.”

“I don’t make fun of your weird Bee Gees obsession. And leave the marker in.”

“What marker? The tent receipt? Wait.” She puts the box down. “Are we still going to Yellowstone sometime this week?”

Honestly, I forgot all about it. But I have a feeling that I’ll need to get away from Ask. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It should be fun.”

She sniffs and wipes her nose on the back of her hand. “Oh, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh. Jason.”

My heart sinks, but I try not to show it. I try to keep my voice light, careless. “What about him?”

“I told him about the trip and he, uh, wanted to come.”

Oh. I always feel like a horrible person for thinking about Jason like I do, but he hasn’t done anything to change my opinion of him. “Well...tell him that he has to have his own gear. A tent and stuff.”

“I know. He has his own tent.” Somehow, I can’t imagine Jason as the camping type, but I don’t say anything. “And, y’know, since we’re sort of dating, we thought it best if we share it.”

“It-it’s...that’s great. Because I get more room to myself.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Oh, no. No! It’s just unexpected, is all. You know I like plans and stuff.” I don’t think she believes me, but she drops the subject for now. It was supposed to be a friends thing, not a proto-honeymoon. I bite back this response; I’ve had very few friends, and I don’t want to lose this one over a petty argument.

So, like the responsible adults we are, we spend the next two hours playing video games on my box of a TV. After the first hour, we hear a reverberating snore emanating from the living room, and I’m forced to close my door. I didn’t pause the game, however, and sit down to see that Carina has beaten me for the fifth time.

“Let’s play something else,” I say.

“You’re just a sore loser. C’mon, just one more time.”

“Oh, all right.”

She pauses the game to check her phone, and then mutters something.

“You okay?”

She puts her phone back. “Yeah. Yeah, that was my dad. Ness hasn’t been home for two weeks. They still can’t find him.”

Ness? Then it hits me: Necio, the cat that runs into walls. “Well, you’ll find him. It’ll be alright.”

She stays silent, and I win the next game.

That one win time turns into about five more, and after the fifth game I get up again, actually pressing pause this time. I ask Carina if she wants anything from the kitchen.

“Coke, if you have one.”

I nod, leave the door ajar behind me and step in the living room to find my uncle taking up half the couch, his head thrown back and his mouth open—all the better to grace the rest of us with his thunderous snores. Spartacus is curled up on the couch next to him, leaving Ask to sit on the floor cross-legged, watching TV.

I try to sneak past them to get to the fridge, although I know that neither Spartacus nor Dave are moving anytime soon. Still, when I reach the counter, I know my efforts at stealth have failed, because I hear a highish-pitched “Hey, Garrett?” from the living room behind me.

I grab a Coke and a Sprite. “Yeah?”

“David said you’d take me to the store.”

“What store?”

“In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t bring anything with me.”

“That’s not my fault. Maybe you should have.”

“I would have if I had had anything to pack.”

I put the cans on the counter by the fridge and turn to see Ask standing at the far end of the kitchen, between the sink and the couch. I didn’t hear him get up. It’s unnerving, but I shake it off. After all, I wasn’t really listening.

“Why he can’t he take you himself?”

In response, Ask makes a grand, sweeping gesture to the sleeping mass on the couch. He has a point, but I still don’t like how Dave volunteered me to babysit when he could’ve set an alarm or something. As I’m thinking about this, Ask just stares at me.

“I’ll think about it,” I finally say. There aren’t any big-box stores nearby, and I’m not willing to drive any more than a couple minutes (in case Carina needs a ride home). That leaves few options, the best of which is probably...Grizzly Jo’s Trading Co., as long as Ask doesn’t mind flannel. It’s a camping store, with some tourist niceties mixed in. I also happen to work there, and didn’t have any plans of going back today.

I go back to my room, shut the door, and hand Carina the Coke before flopping on the floor, Ask’s melodrama having rubbed off on me.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, having already chugged half the can, pausing only to sneeze.

“Do you want to go to Jo’s with me?”

“Why? I thought you had morning shift.” She pauses, thinking. “Yeah, I saw you leave.”

Something dings in the kitchen. I ignore it, since I’ve become accustomed to odd noises from the kitchen; besides, it’s either the toaster or the microwave. I assume that this means Dave is awake, but that theory is thrown out with a muffled roar from the living room.

“I do. But my new gnome friend forgot to pack extra clothes.”

“So he wants a shitton of flannels?”

“What other options do we have?” I sigh; I don’t want babysitter duty, but leaving Ask with literally nothing seems needlessly unkind, no matter how annoying he’s proven to be. I let Carina finish her sprite and gather the Gamecube and the controllers. “Besides, employee discount and stuff.”

Nothing’s really changed in the other room, other than the bowl of popcorn that Ask is holding; so it had been the microwave. “Hey,” I say. “I thought we were going.”

“Righnnow?”

“Yeah, right now. Unless you don’t want to.”

Ask jumps up and makes for the door.

“Uh-uh. Put the popcorn up. Spartacus doesn’t need it.” I try to assume an authoritative stance. Next to me, Carina stifles a laugh and I elbow her in the rib.

Looking mildly disgruntled, Ask goes back to his spot in front of the couch and picks up the bowl, taking it to the kitchen and shoving it in the nearest cupboard. I don’t argue; after all, it’s not wrong. Carina snorts, this time unable to contain herself.

Ignoring Ask’s triumphant expression, I push past him and into the entryway, slipping on my shoes and grabbing my keys. Dave is still sleeping; despite his usually gentle nature, waking him is generally not a good idea.

We pile into my Jeep and, after a brief argument over who gets shotgun (Carina, of course), I again find myself downtown. The sea of tourists has abated slightly, with not a single SUV stroller in sight. The same can’t be said for family-filled SUVs, but it’s a start.

I have to park a little ways down the street, but the sidewalk is pleasantly sparse. The cool, thin air feels nice in my lungs; it always has. I’m not a fan of lower elevations; the air there is so thick that I feel like I’m swimming, like I have to fight it. I love California—I went a few times to visit my grandparents, back before everything got messed up—but the air feels wrong.

The bell tinkles as we enter. Past the display tent and racks of vests and flannel, Bernard peers at the three of us over the counter. With a guilty surge of relief, I notice that Jason isn’t here.

“Carina? Garrett?” she asks. “What are you doing here? You both got off hours ago.”

“We’re here for Garrett’s cousin,” Carina says as Ask enters behind us.

At the word cousin, he again shakes his head. “We’re not related.”

I force a laugh. “Sure, kid.”

“We’re not.”

“Just go find something.” To Bernard, who’s got her eyes narrowed: “He’s trustworthy.” This...may or may not be a lie, I think, recalling the earlier incident with my phone.

As Ask wanders around the store, Carina and I take a seat at the wooden table opposite the tent display. I watch a man in a business suit enter the pizza place across the street, probably on his way to Billings.

“How’s the art thing?” I ask Carina.

She shrugs, staring out the window with me. “Parents still won’t pay. I should be able to get scholarships, though.”

“That’s great. Uh...the scholarships, I mean. Have you chosen a major yet, or…?”

“Look, Garrett.” She fixes her gaze on me, now. “I know you mean well, but I really don’t want to talk about school right now.”

“Sorry. I just—”

Again, Ask has snuck up on me. I find him standing next to me and almost jump. Carina goes back to watching the pizza place with the intensity of someone on a stakeout mission.

“What’d you find?” I ask.

“You didn’t give me a budget,” Ask says, hands empty.

“Oh. Well…” Well, I did snag Dave’s credit card. Not that it matters. “Just find something you like.”

“Like what?” At first, I think he’s messing with me, but one look tells me that he seems genuinely confused. Right now, he’s just got on a black T-shirt and jeans, the picture of the average fourteen-year-old, or however old he’s supposed to be.

“Dude, I know you have opinions,” I say. “You had a lot to say about the jeep.”

“I’ve never had to pick clothes before…”

I leave Carina at the table, fully intending to pick up our conversation at a later date. I worry about her, sometimes. It’s not just about Ness, the cat that’ll go missing for a month at a time; I haven’t seen a sketchbook in her hands since the week we met, six months ago.

We overestimated the number of flannels; there are a few tourist T-shirts here and there. There’s also a small selection of jeans. With limited input from Ask—sizing is the only useful information I get out of him—I pluck some flannels from and a windbreaker from a shelf, as well as some plain jeans. It’s not that I’m a major flannel proponent; I just don’t want him to look too much like a tourist. At some point, Carina joins us, and the endeavor—with my frustration coupled with Ask’s indifference—seems to cheer her up, at least partially.

I hold up a red shirt and a blue shirt. “What’s your favorite color?”

Ask shrugs.

“Come on, I know you have opinions. You were so adamant about the Red Bull earlier.”

“The blue one.” But he doesn’t look up from whatever he’s doing.

“Give me my phone.”

“What makes you think I have your phone?”

“I just saw it in your hand.”

“Well, maybe—”

Carina snatches it from him and tosses it to me.

“We’re getting the blue one, then. And we’re leaving now.” Nodding my thanks to Carina, I pocket it and lower my voice so Bernard can’t hear me. “No more stealing.”

He starts to protest, but I’m already at the counter. Bernard doesn’t care that I pay with Dave’s card; she knows him well enough, and at least partially trusts me. All that matters is that she still gives me that employee discount.

When we leave, I shove the bag into Ask’s arms and address Carina: “Do you want a ride home?”

She’s in the middle of tying back her long hair, and has to take the hair tie out of her mouth before replying. “Nah, I’ll walk.”

“Come on.”

“Seriously.”

“Nope. You’re riding with me.” I glance behind me, at Ask. “With us.”

She gives a lopsided smile. “If you insist.”

It’s a small detour to stop at her house, a cream-colored, two-story thing just a mile or so from Dave’s. There’s an ancient elk statue outside that’s probably taller than me and older than our parents.

I hand Carina the Gamecube and controllers as she gets out. “Have fun,” I say. She waves goodbye. Forgetting about Ask’s existence, I watch Carina ascend the steps and wave when she turns.

Then I hear those two words that are really starting to get grating: “Hey, Garrett?”

“What?”

“Did you see the fox on our way here?”

Fox? “No, why?”

“It was really small. I’ve never seen a fox.”

“How are you so sure it was a fox?”

“Its fur was bright orange.”

“Cool,” I say absently, backing out of the driveway and trying not to hit a neighbor’s tree. I get lost in thought, thinking about Bernard and Dave and Carina and Ask, and about how weird yet mundane the day—no, not just today, but the move to Red Lodge—has been.

“Hey, Garrett?”

I groan inwardly. Ask moves to the passenger seat, hitting me in the shoulder as he does this. The seatbelt clicks.

“Garrett. I think—Garrett!”

Something orange flashes in front of the Jeep. I do the exact opposite of what I was always told to do: I jerk the wheel, causing me to swerve wildly and skid. When I finally hit the breaks, it’s too late: the Jeep’s momentum causes us to sail forward, right into a tree.

My neck whips forward. The airbags inflate, driving my neck back.

Feeling like I just got punched, I lean back in my seat, dazed. There’s a white powdery smell in my nostrils. The airbag deflates, and out of the corner of my eye I see Ask scramble to unbuckle his seatbelt, apparently unaffected, although the passenger side of the Jeep seems to have taken the brunt of the impact.

“Garrett? Garrett! Are you okay?”

I mutter something incomprehensible, even to me. I cough and try again. “Just get my phone and call…” My neck slips, though I try not to move. But he’s already got my phone and is already dialing.

To my left, I again see that orange pelt and know immediately what—no, who—it is, and it’s not a fox.

“Maybe...text Carina,” I say, trying a weak laugh. “Tell her we found Nessy.”
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My chapters tend to be 2-3k words, so they're really hard to split since they're not meant to be. I couldn't split this one up, I'm sorry.